The Holtzmann Problem
by holtzbabe
Summary: Resident bisexual Erin Gilbert tries to reconcile the massive crush she has on Dr. Jillian Holtzmann, and a workplace accident results in broken bones, an impromptu sleepover, and LOTS of pining.
1. Chapter 1

Erin Gilbert had a problem. A big problem. A massive problem.

A problem that was currently squirrelled away up on the second floor of the Ghostbusters headquarters, making "revolutionary changes" to the team's proton packs.

A problem by the name of Dr. Jillian Holtzmann.

Erin wasn't sure what "revolutionary changes" actually entailed, but she was a little scared to find out. Holtzmann always went though several rounds of trial-and-error with every new addition to their ghost-fighting inventory, and Erin had had enough of being the test pilot. One of these days, she was actually going to die at the hands of Holtzmann. She just knew it.

As if on cue, a thundering explosion came from the upper floor. Erin's head snapped up from the equations scrawled on the large whiteboard in front of her. She was the only one still in the building aside from Holtzmann, who practically slept there most days. Erin didn't normally stay after dinner, but she was really close to a breakthrough in her work.

Before Erin could get to the stairs to investigate the explosion, Holtz came hurtling down the fire pole. She froze when she saw Erin.

"You're still here?" She moved her goggles to perch on top of her head and squinted at Erin.

"Yeah, I was working on—wait, don't distract me. What was that noise?"

"Ah. Yes. Are there any more extinguishers down here? I appear to have run out."

"Holtzmann! What did you do?" Erin said as Holtz strolled over to a storage cupboard with no real sense of urgency.

"Tiny thing. No biggie," Holtzmann said as she pulled various odds and ends out of the cupboard. She dropped into a crouch to examine the bottom shelf.

"It's behind the emergency blankets. Top shelf. And what do you mean by 'tiny thing?'"

Knowing Holtz, that could mean anything. That woman had very skewed perceptions of the world, sometimes.

"Gotcha," said Holtz, hoisting herself back into a standing position and retrieving the fire extinguisher from the top shelf. "And, uh…tiny, microscopic, minor…nuclear thingie thing."

"WHAT?"

Holtzmann grinned and pushed past Erin with the extinguisher tucked under her arm like a football. She bounded up the stairs, two at a time, her oversized coat fluttering behind her like a cape. She only seemed to ever move with urgency when she was A) Chasing a ghost or B) Escaping Erin's chastising. Erin jogged up the stairs after Holtz, and rounded the corner expecting to see half the building on fire.

The blaze was pretty small, though, and contained to one of Holtz' worktables. What exactly was on fire, Erin wasn't sure, but whatever it was, it was being doused in foam right now. And—oh my God, was Holtz _moonwalking_ around the table with the extinguisher? Erin clutched the doorframe for support. She was a little out of breath—from the stairs, obviously.

Holtzmann caught her staring and winked. "See? Tiny."

Erin felt her heartrate accelerate well beyond a safe speed, just like it did whenever Holtz winked at her. It always hit her just as strongly as it did the very first time, back when she had just told Holtz and Patty about the ghost that haunted her every night for a year. Erin still dreamt about that wink, and all the ones since then. They made her bones melt, and her knees shake, and her palms get all clammy and gross. Her little bisexual heart couldn't take it.

"Tiny," Erin repeated. Her voice sounded strange to herself, like she was underwater.

Holtz finished spraying down the fire, which was down to embers and some charred hunks of metal, and waved away the lingering smoke. She tossed the fire extinguisher onto the table with a thunk. "I think perhaps we need to acquire some new extinguishers."

"Yes. Yessiroo. Yeppers." Erin really wished she didn't turn into a bumbling idiot every time Holtz did something hot. Which was more often than you'd think.

Luckily, Holtz was distracted. She put her goggles back on and circled the table, staring down at the mess. Then she took a seat on a rolling stool and leaned back into her hands like there was a chair-back behind her. All Erin could think about was how much core strength that must take. Oh no. She was going to go into a dangerous spiral if she started imagining Holtz' abs. She wondered how Holtzmann had gotten so fit. She'd throw 100lbs of ghostbusting equipment over her shoulder like it was made of Styrofoam. Erin could barely even lift her proton pack some days.

"How are you so muscular?" Erin blurted. In addition to being a bumbling idiot, she also lost any sort of filter when she was in the presence of an attractive human.

Holtz spun in her swivel stool to face Erin without breaking from her position. She raised an eyebrow at underneath her goggles. Then she dropped her hands, moved into a more natural seated position, and started pulling herself around the table, all while maintaining eye contact. When she reached the edge closest to Erin, she spun so she was facing the table. Then she bent her knees, propping her feet against the table, and kicked off, send the stool (and her) zooming backwards across the room towards Erin.

"You're going to hurt—" Erin started to say, but then she broke off as Holtzmann, attempting to spin as she was rolling, underestimated the momentum and gravitational pull, and flew off the stool. She landed with a crash on the concrete floor. "—yourself," Erin finished. She rushed over to where Holtz was curled up on the floor.

"That was gloriously stupid," said Holtzmann. "Can I go again?"

Erin helped her sit up, and then a deep frown flashed across Holtz' face and her hand flew to her upper chest.

"Are you okay?" Erin asked.

Holtz didn't answer, but she started pulling off her oversized jacket. Erin moved to help her. Well, this wasn't how she had imagined taking off Holtz' clothes. Underneath she was wearing a crop top and overalls combo, which Erin recognized immediately as the outfit she had been wearing on the day they met. Holtzmann had introduced herself with a pick-up line, and Erin had been falling for her ever since.

Holtz shrugged the straps of her grease-covered overalls off her shoulders, wincing a little, and then her crop top was showing a lot more skin than the little strips along her side that Erin usually stared too long at whenever Holtz wore this outfit. Even though this was a dire situation, Erin couldn't help but peek at the strip of stomach now visible. Oh, yeah, she was right about the abs. Was she ever right.

"What Holtz? I mean…what hurts?" Erin said.

"Take off my necklace," replied Holtz, in a throaty voice that made Erin curl her toes in her boots. Then she cleared her throat. "Wait, that was weird. Apologies. I'm used to saying that phrase in slightly more…sensual contexts."

Erin nearly choked. _This feels pretty darn sensual to me,_ she thought as she unclipped Holtz' signature jewelry piece. She went to hand it to Holtzmann, who shook her head.

"Keep it safe. I don't want anyone in the emergency room cutting it off or nabbing it. That necklace is an essential part of my personality."

"Wait—emergency room?"

Holtzmann smirked. "Oh, yeah. My collarbone is definitely broken."

Erin gaped down at Holtz. Her smirk started to fade when Erin hadn't said anything after several seconds.

"What, no freak-out? Did I finally send you into shock? Success. I would be pumping my arm in the air right now, but collarbone."

That snapped Erin out of it. "Oh my God, Holtz. Okay. Okay. Crap. Okay. I'm calling an ambulance."

"Nah, let's just take the hearse. It's classier."

"We're not driving a hearse to a hospital."

" _We're_ not, but _you_ are."

Realizing that Holtzmann wasn't going to budge on the issue, Erin sighed in resignation and gently helped her to her feet. Together they walked down the stairs (Holtz only made one comment about going down the pole) and to the garage. Erin made sure she got Holtz settled before she went around and slid into the driver's seat.

"I don't dare put my seatbelt across my chest right now, so keep that in mind as you drive, Gilbert."

"My driving is way safer than yours will ever be," replied Erin as she pulled out of the garage, sirens already blaring. "Also, how can you still be so sarcastic with a broken collarbone? Aren't you in pain?"

"Ooooh yes." Holtz grinned, and for not the first time, Erin was more than a little concerned about her sanity. "Drive a little faster, won't you? The sirens are made for clearing traffic. You just can't be afraid to weasel in where there's enough space. And sometimes, even where there isn't."

"Sound advice," Erin mumbled, hitting the accelerator.

Once they had arrived at the emergency room, Holtzmann slumped back into one of the waiting room chairs in typical Holtz fashion, except with her arms crossed instead of behind her head. Erin went and got the paperwork from the front desk, and was told that it was going to be a long wait because a broken collarbone wasn't serious. Erin almost yelled at the lady, because Holtzmann was in pain and how dare nobody seem concerned? She stalked back over in a huff to where Holtz was seated and plunked down in the seat next to her.

"Want me to fill this out for you so you don't have to move your arm?" Erin asked.

"That would be grand."

Erin clicked the pen and stared down at the form, suddenly aware of how little she knew about Holtzmann. She didn't even know her birthday, for crying out loud. Holtz seemed to realize this at the same time, and she started supplying the information without Erin asking. By the end of the form, she knew not only Holtz' birthday (which she was reluctant to give out, possibly because it was in less than a month), but also her middle name (which Holtzmann made Erin swear she'd never repeat to anyone ever). Erin finally finished the form, and then she sighed.

"I hoped that would take more time. It's still going to be a long wait, it seems."

"Didya tell her I was a Ghostbuster?"

"No…that's smart!" Erin went to stand up but Holtzmann caught her arm and pulled her back down.

"I was kidding. It's never worked before."

Holtz held onto her arm for several seconds longer than was necessary, and Erin's next words stumbled out of her mouth as she took in that information. "I forgot that this isn't a first time occurrence for you. What was it last time, again?"

"Burn," Holtzmann replied vaguely. Erin always seemed to be gone when Holtz injured herself, which was probably for the best. This was killing her, watching Holtz suffer. This was why she always got so angry when the kooky scientist was reckless. Erin always told herself it was in the interest of the practice that she got so upset, but she knew the truth was that she didn't think she'd ever get over it if something bad happened to Holtz.

Holtzmann let go of her arm, then, and Erin took the opportunity to go take the form up to the front desk so Holtz wouldn't see her hyperventilating. She took a few deep, steadying breaths at the counter before turning back around. Back at their seats, Holtz' eyes were closed, and Erin wondered if she was falling asleep. She looked so innocent, surrounded by the bustle of the emergency room. Calm. Vulnerable. Erin swallowed a lump in her throat as she walked back over and took her seat again. Holtzmann didn't say anything, and remained still, so Erin thought maybe she _was_ asleep until a few seconds later, when Holtz gently but purposefully dropped her head and nestled it into Erin's shoulder.

For a few seconds, all she could register was a mix of panic and joy, topped off with the steady internal screaming that was occurring in her head. Seconds turned into minutes and Holtz didn't move. Erin slowly relaxed, calmed by the gentle rhythm of Holtzmann's breath and all the scents that she had never noticed before. She had only ever smelled the motor oil that wafted off with every step Holtz took, but at this close proximity, she could also smell plain soap (did Holtzmann wash her hair with hand soap?) and a deep musky, spicy scent, which Erin guessed might be some sort of cologne. It smelt like…a lumberjack baking gingersnaps. It was assertive and robust, but sweet, and it was so perfect for Holtzmann that Erin felt herself getting choked up. Oh my God, was she losing it over the way this woman _smelt_? She was in a lot deeper than she thought.

Erin was so content that she almost got angry when, a few hours later, a tired looking man with a clipboard called _Jillian Holtzmann?_

She was so unused to hearing Holtzmann's full name. She went to nudge Holtz, assuming she was for sure asleep if she could stay motionless on Erin's shoulder for hours, but she was already moving her head and standing up.

"I'm going to be stiff tomorrow," said Holtz, stretching her neck from side to side and smirking at Erin. Then, so quiet Erin wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not, she added: "Worth it." Then she was walking away before Erin could react, and the last thing she could hear before she was out of earshot was the scientist say to the clipboard man: "That's _Doctor_ Holtzmann to you, good sir."

Yeah, Holtzmann was _definitely_ going to be Erin's cause of death.


	2. Chapter 2

"Okay, steady," said Erin, her hand on Holtz' back as she guided the drugged-up scientist through the door of Erin's apartment.

The doctor had confirmed Holtzmann's suspicions with an x-ray, loaded her up with some painkillers, and sent her out the door with a sling and the instruction to keep her arm as immobile as possible for 6-12 weeks while the break healed. By the time they got out of the hospital, it was very late, and with Holtz in the condition she was in, Erin thought it was best if she spent the night under careful observation. At least, that's what she was telling herself. When she had suggested going back to Erin's apartment, Holtz had replied with a quick "You'll have to buy me a drink first," which sent Erin into a flustered tizzy for several minutes.

Now, she shut and locked the door behind her, and turned to Holtzmann to see her staring around the apartment in wonder.

"This is so sad. This is a sad person's apartment," said Holtz.

"You're high. You don't know what you're saying," Erin muttered. She looked around the apartment. Holtz wasn't wrong. This was a sad person's apartment. There were no decorations, no photos, nothing to show that someone lived here. Even the fridge was mostly empty, as Erin ate most of her meals at the firehouse.

"Not that high," mumbled Holtz, slurring a little. She looked dead on her feet, probably equal parts exhausted and drugged.

"You need to go to sleep. Immediately. You can sleep in my bed. I'll take the couch." Erin's face flushed as she said it, and she hoped Holtzmann wouldn't notice.

In the bedroom, Erin rummaged around in her dresser for something for Holtz to wear to bed.

"I normally sleep naked, but I'll spare your sheets that pleasure," Holtzmann said from behind her.

Erin's heart started racing at the new information. She wanted to say that there was nothing she desired more than to have Holtz naked in her sheets, but she bit her tongue so she wouldn't blurt it out. She pulled an old oversized shirt from the back of her dresser and handed it to Holtzmann.

"That's the best I got."

"That'll do, Gilbert." Holtz grabbed the shirt and gave Erin a strange salute.

"Right. Okay. Well, nighty night. I'll just go…" Erin gestured vaguely in the direction of the door. Holtzmann gave a bleary smile as Erin backed out of the room and shut the door. A few seconds later she realized she didn't have any pajamas of her own. They were all in her room. Oops. Looked like she was sleeping in her work clothes.

Erin shut off all the lights and then plopped herself onto the couch, pulling down the blanket draped over the back to cover herself. She laid on her back, arms crossed like a corpse, and stared up at the ceiling. She was suddenly very awake. How could she fall asleep when Holtzmann was in her bed at this very moment? Granted, Erin had hoped that she'd also be in the bed if this moment ever came, but this was still huge.

Then she started thinking, because if there was one thing that Erin Gilbert was good at, it was overthinking things.

How, _how_ , had her harmless crush gotten this bad? It had snuck up on her, through days and days of heart-wrenching winks, and smiles, and flirtatious comments. How could she not fall for Holtz? Between the scientist's crazy hot dancing (God, that dancing should be illegal), and how _incredibly_ sexy she was when she was taking down a ghost (sometimes Erin got so distracted that her proton gun ended up scorching a wall instead of wrangling the spectre), and the way she looked at you while you were speaking like this was the most important conversation she had ever heard. Every single thing she did was attractive, from sitting in a chair to the way her eyes lit up when she was explaining a new invention. She was driving Erin crazy. Sexually, but beyond that too; she wanted to wrap her arms around Holtzmann and never let her go.

And Erin didn't even know if Holtzmann was gay.

She almost laughed thinking that. Holtzmann seemed gayer than anyone she had ever met, but Erin didn't want to be the one to make assumptions based off Holtz' hair…or clothes…or blatant flirting with other women…

But Holtz flirted with everyone. She was the queen of innuendo, and eye contact, and unwarranted touching. She would use you as a human armrest or stretch her arm onto the back of your chair without batting an eye. Things that were normally signs of flirting were just…Holtzmann being herself. Which made it extremely difficult to gage whether or not the attraction was mutual.

There was no chance in hell that Holtzmann was straight, though…right? Straight girls didn't flirt with women…or at least, Erin didn't think they did. As bisexual as she was, she didn't have any experience with women. She barely had experience with men, and most of it was in the form of strange awkward flings when she was in college that ended with the guy not calling her. She told herself that her work was more important than a relationship, but really she was just scared. Scared, and self-conscious, and still a hurt kid inside—a kid who spent her whole life having people tease her, and mock her, and side-eye her whenever she said anything, and assume she was crazy, and weird, and not the kind of person you'd want to be friends with. Erin had grown up believing them. She let herself believe that nobody would ever take her seriously, or want to get to know her. Want to listen to what she had to say. And that extended to relationships, too. To be with someone else was to let them close, let them hear the things that nobody else could, and Erin was terrified of that. There was a big part of her that truly still believed that any sane person would laugh if she shared her soul with them. Take the secrets she had worked so hard to keep and run with them, out into the street, brandishing them like a grenade, ready to explode Erin's carefully crafted life.

But Holtzmann wasn't a sane person. And Holtzmann, while talented at causing explosions, was also great at fixing them.


	3. Chapter 3

Erin must've fallen asleep at some point, tuckered out by the swirling vortex of gay thoughts in her brain, because she next thing she knew she was jolted awake by something small hitting her face. She blinked into the light just as another projectile ricocheted off her face. She propped herself up onto her elbows and wiped the sleep from her eyes, then looked down to see her torso covered in…

"Corn nut?" came a voice from the other side of the room.

Erin's head snapped up, and there was Holtzmann, perched on the kitchen island with a bag of corn nuts and a smirk, wearing Erin's shirt and a pair of boxers with hamburgers on them.

Erin tore her gaze from the sight to look back down at the mess of corn nuts on her body. "I think…I think I'm good," she stammered.

"You sleep like a rock," Holtz said. She hopped off the counter and strode over to the couch, then took a seat on the armrest, legs splayed. "Granted, they didn't all hit your face, but still. You nearly ran me dry."

She reached over and nabbed a corn nut off Erin's stomach, then popped it in her mouth without breaking eye contact. Erin's stomach flip-flopped. "Are you eating corn nuts at…what time is it?"

Holtz waved her free hand. "Irrelevant. The more pressing question: do you always sleep in a pantsuit?"

Erin blushed. "I didn't want to bother you by getting my pajamas."

Holtzmann grinned. "Such hospitality. Are you going to make me breakfast, too?"

"Okay," blurted Erin instantly, despite the fact that she had zero ingredients to make breakfast.

Holtz' eyebrows skyrocketed and she got that look on her face, the incredulous grin-smirk, the one that she got whenever Kevin did something especially strange. It was also the expression she wore whenever Erin flirted too aggressively with Kevin: a little mix of amused and fascinated. She'd probably be even more amused if she realized Erin was laying it on thick on purpose. In the beginning, she _had_ been a hot mess around Kevin, but her infatuation was fairly short lived. The boy was attractive, but not relationship material even in the slightest. Plus, there was the fact that Erin found intelligence more attractive than most things. She still put on the bumbling straight idiot act whenever she talked to Kevin, if Holtz was watching. She needed to throw her off her trail somehow.

Which she wasn't doing very well right now.

"Charming," said Holtzmann, her voice strange. "I've filled up on corn nuts, but I won't forget that offer."

Then she winked, slid off the couch, and left in the direction of the bedroom, leaving Erin to restart her heart, take in Holtz' outfit in private, and mentally add 'wears boxers' to her growing list of Facts about Holtzmann.

Erin stood up, shaking dozens of corn nuts to the ground—she'd clean them up later—and went to check herself in the giant decorative mirror on the wall. She had horrible bedhead. Fantastic. She tried to smooth it down with her fingers a little. Then she went over to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. As she turned the machine on, she caught a glimpse of the time—6:38am, no wonder she was exhausted.

Holtz bounded back out of the bedroom, wearing her overalls and Erin's shirt. "Can I borrow this? My other shirt was hard enough to get off with this—" She nodded at her sling— "So I can't imagine trying to get it back on."

"Sure. Yeah. No problemo," replied Erin, having all but forgotten the reason why Holtz was here at all. "How does your collarbone feel?"

"Broken," Holtz said. She came to take a seat at the island.

"Do you want some ibuprofen? I think I have some lying around somewhere." Erin started madly pulling at drawers, even though she definitely didn't keep medication in her kitchen.

"Nah. I'm more of a 'work through the pain' kinda gal. It's not that bad, anyways."

"Oh." Erin's hands fell from the drawer she was at. She closed it slowly. "Well, if you change your mind…"

"I'll come a knockin'."

Erin swallowed and busied herself pouring coffee. "Want some?"

"Hells yeah. Black."

"I know," Erin replied almost automatically. Oops. She went to grab a second mug and when she turned back, Holtz had propped her free arm onto the table and was grinning at Erin with her chin in her hand. Erin tried to steady herself as she pushed the mug across the island. She hoped Holtzmann wouldn't notice how her hands were shaking.

Erin took a sip of her coffee and her eyes darted to the top of Holtz' head. "Do you sleep with your goggles on?" She had been wearing them earlier, before she got dressed, but Erin had been too distracted by the outfit itself to realize how weird that was.

Holtzmann nodded, her hand moving from her chin to her cheek, her head tilting slightly to rest on her fist. "Always."

Erin leaned against the counter behind her in what she hoped was a cool way. "Why? We're not even in a lab right now."

"You never know when you need goggles. I learned that the hard way."

"What? What did you do?"

Holtzmann shrugged, and then frowned and winced at the movement. Then she looked down into her coffee, which she still hadn't touched. She was silent for a while, but then she finally spoke. "When I was a kid…the other kids liked to throw gravel at me. Which was fine. Until the time that it hit my eye and scratched my cornea."

Erin's mouth fell open. Her first reaction was guilt, for assuming that Holtz had _done_ something. Her second reaction was pure anger. It hit her with the sheer force of one of Patty's slaps. "Holy shit. Oh my God. They threw _gravel_ at you?"

"Frequently," Holtzmann replied, finally dropping her hand to pick up her coffee. She wasn't making eye contact, which was a first.

"And it hit your _eye_? Were you okay? I mean, that's a dumb question, but…"

"It scratched really badly. Permanent vision loss." Holtz put her coffee mug down and pointed at her right eye.

"Permanent…" Erin trailed off as the new information sunk in. Holtzmann had vision loss in one eye. "That…that explains a lot, actually."

Holtz snorted. "It's not as bad as you're thinking. Just a little blurry."

"Hold up, are you legally allowed to drive?" Erin said, thinking of the havoc Holtz always unleased on the streets of New York with the Ecto-1.

"Errrrrrr…what the DMV doesn't know won't hurt 'em."

"Do you even have a _licence_?"

Holtzmann just winked in response, and Erin felt some of her anger dissipating. There was still something hovering in Holtz' eyes that wasn't normally there, but it seemed like it would be rude of Erin to backtrack to the bullying she had just learned about. She wasn't surprised, exactly. She knew firsthand how horrible kids could be, and if Holtz was even a tenth as eccentric back then as she was now, she would've been a magnet for torment. The thought made Erin feel sick, and the protective feeling that she had been experiencing so much lately was back.

Holtz took a sip of her coffee. Erin wracked her brain for another conversation topic that didn't involve terrible childhood memories. Although apparently she didn't know what bizarre quirks of Holtzmann's were attributable to one such memory, and now she felt like she couldn't ask about anything else.

"We should probably head in to work soon, right?" Holtz said after a sufficiently awkward and long pause.

"You're going in to work? With a freshly broken bone? And a sling? I don't think so." Erin didn't mean to sound so condescending. It just happened sometimes.

Holtzmann stared at Erin with a peculiar look on her face. The closest expression Erin could compare it to was the one Holtz wore when she was deeply entranced in her work and was trying to figure something out that was complex and difficult to understand. Then Holtz extended her arm like she was reaching for Erin, and gestured for her to come closer. Erin swallowed the mouthful of coffee in her mouth and set her mug on the counter behind her, suddenly fearful. She walked closer until she was butted up against the island. Holtz was still reaching for her.

"Come here. Let me take your hand in mine real quick. There ya go."

Then Holtzmann was gripping her hand tightly across the island, and staring into Erin's eyes more intensely than ever before. And Erin's heart was beating so fast, too fast, and she swore she could power the whole lab just by the waves of electricity running through her.

She had been scared of Holtzmann before, many times, but never like this.

"Erin, darling," Holtz began, and Erin nearly started hyperventilating because _oh my God Holtzmann was going to confess her love or make a move or both._ Then she continued. "I love you, babe, but you gotta stop being my mother. Even my own mother, rest her soul, realized that mothering and Holtzmann go together as well as potassium and water. I am unmotherable. Unless you _want_ to cause an explosion. In which case, mother away."

Erin, her head still reeling from the 'I love you, babe,' just gaped at Holtzmann. "I wasn't trying to be your mother," she spluttered.

"Thank Lucifer for that. I hated the woman." Holtz released Erin's hand, then clapped her on the shoulder. While Erin attempted to gather her thoughts, Holtz chugged the rest of her coffee, no doubt burning her throat, then stood up from the island. "Thanks for the joe, my pal. I'm going to go watch TV until you're ready for work."

Then she sauntered over to the couch, stepping on corn nuts, and kicked back with her feet on the coffee table. Seconds later, the TV clicked on. Erin just stared. And stared some more.

"You know, I can still see you, Gilbert. Work with me here. I don't want to get there later than 7:30 and we need to swing by my place on the way there so I can change."

That snapped Erin out of it. She hurried to her room with a blush spreading across her face. She stopped dead just inside the door and took in the sight in front of her. All the blankets were on the floor, and the sheets were bunched up into a ball in the middle of the bed, and the pillows, inexplicably, were at the foot of the bed.

"Do you sleep backwards?" she called before she could help herself.

"Don't knock it 'till you try it," came the response from the living room.

Erin just shook her head and dressed in a hurry, stopping in the bathroom to spray her hair with dry shampoo and brush her teeth. A few minutes later she looked presentable. If she wasn't under time pressure, she would've made sure to take a shower and do her makeup, to look her best for Holtzmann, but this would have to do. She went back into the living room and came up behind the couch. Holtz was staring intently at the news.

"I would've pegged you for a science show kind of woman, not news," Erin said.

"The science channel only shows boring nature programs at this time of morning." Holtz flicked off the TV and stood, crushing a few more corn nuts.

"That's sad. Are we heading out, then?"

Holtzmann nodded and grinned. "Lezgo."


	4. Chapter 4

Holtzmann's townhouse was like nothing Erin had ever seen before.

She'd thought, as Holtz had unlocked the front door, that she would be prepared for whatever was beyond, or as prepared as one could be. She'd thought that just because she'd seen Holtz' workspace, she knew what to expect from her home.

This was…unprecedented levels of chaos.

There was junk _everywhere_. Heaps of scrap metal hulked in corners, and crunched under Erin's shoes. There were tables upon tables of gizmos and parts and tools and _books_ , so many books, which surprised Erin, because she had never seen Holtzmann read, ever. There were papers scrawled with complex equations and ink pooled where Holtz had probably pressed too hard in her excitement. There were at least three chalkboards that were filled corner to corner with tiny writing and diagrams, and behind them, the writing and diagrams bled onto the wall in thick black strokes of permanent marker that were occasionally scribbled over. There were scorch marks _on the ceiling_ , and blow torches lounging on the floor, and various dangerous-looking oddities perched precariously in places where they really shouldn't be, and something in the corner was definitely sparking. There were a series of thick nails protruding from a wall, each with a different pair of yellow goggles hanging from them. There was a radio humming from somewhere in the room, even though Holtz had been gone for a day. Taped to the wall, there were several black and white photos of women, who Erin recognized as being influential physicists throughout history. The ceiling fan spinning overhead was mangled, like the spokes had melted at some point. There was a mirror being held to the wall with copious amounts of duct tape. And, perhaps strangest of all, there was a massive glass tank with a lamp over it that housed a long and scaly reptile that was making uncomfortable eye contact with Erin.

It was all so, so Holtzmann.

There was a series of thumps from upstairs, where Holtz had retreated to change. Erin bit her tongue instead of calling to see if she was okay. She was going to try, really try, to stop mothering. The last thing she wanted was for Holtz to see her as a mother figure. That was about as far away from 'potential love interest' as possible. She looked around at the hundreds of safety hazards and violations, and she itched to tidy up or go investigate the sparking thing or do _something_ , but she wouldn't. This was Holtzmann's space, and she needed to respect that. Even if it was taking ten years off her life just standing in the room.

Erin crept closer to the weird animal in the tank, nearly tripping over a large jumble of wires on the floor. She wanted to see if it was just as ugly close up.

"I see you've met Hypatia."

Erin's head snapped away from the reptile to see Holtz leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, wearing a pair of wide-legged paisley pants, two different socks, and Erin's shirt.

"You named your…whatever this is…after a Greek mathematician?"

"Iguana."

"You named your iguana after a Greek mathematician?"

"I named my iguana after a kickass lady."

"That's…fair." Erin paused. "You're still wearing my shirt."

"I like it. I'm stealing it." Holtzmann said this like it was a fact, not up for debate. She climbed around a stack of boxes that were sagging at a frightening angle and tugged Erin by the arm out of the townhouse. "What, no comments about my esteemed place of residence?" she said as she locked the door.

"You're probably not getting your damage deposit back," Erin said, because she couldn't help herself, and that was a lot tamer than a lot of the things running through her head.

Holtz laughed at that. "I own it myself. I found out long ago that landlords aren't so forgiving if you blow up their kitchen. Haven't rented since."

Erin looked up at the townhouse. It was quite nice, actually, and in a good neighbourhood. "You blew up a kitchen?" she murmured absentmindedly. Then, because she had no filter, she blurted: "How could you afford to buy this place?"

Holtzmann grinned as they walked down the steps and to the waiting Ecto-1. She made a move for the driver's seat, but Erin pushed her away. She drew the line at that. There was no way she was letting Holtz drive with one arm _and_ one blurry eye.

Holtzmann didn't answer her question until they were in the hearse and driving away. "I had a fancy-pants job before I joined Abby."

"How fancy-pants?" Well, Erin just sounded like a complete dork saying that. How did Holtzmann make the stupidest sayings sound cool?

"Top-secret government fancy-pants. Very lucrative. Lots of money."

Erin frowned at that. She couldn't picture Holtz working for the government. "Why'd you stop? I know Abby's great, but I imagine that was a bit of a downgrade, pay wise."

"This is more fun," Holtzmann replied. Erin caught a smile in her peripheral vision, but there was something in Holtz' voice that suggested that wasn't the whole story. Erin decided not to press.

"Well, I'm glad you did. Join Abby, I mean."

Holtzmann kicked her feet up onto the hearse's dashboard. "Oh yeah?" she said, her voice teasing. "Why's that?"

Erin felt her face growing hot. Holtz _would_ make her say it. "Because…because who else would've saved the city?"

That wasn't what she wanted to say, and they both knew it. Holtzmann chuckled quietly. "You would've, of course." Then she leaned over, her free hand finding the space between Erin's shoulder blades (causing Erin to stiffen in her seat and grip the steering wheel like her life depended on it), and said in a low voice inches from Erin's ear: "I'm glad I met you too, Gilbert."


	5. Chapter 5

Erin was a bit of a wreck by the time she pulled into the firehouse's garage. Holtzmann had moved her hand from Erin's back a while ago, but she could still feel the imprint there like a ghost. She killed the engine and they sat there in silence: Erin feeling like she should say something, but not sure what to say or how to say it.

Holtzmann broke the silence. Of course she did. "You still have my necklace?"

Erin nodded and retrieved it from her purse. She held it in her hand for a moment, studying the strange emblem that she had never got a chance to look closely at before. Then it clicked.

"Screw you?" she said, the corners of her mouth twitching up at the U soldered neatly to a screw.

Holtz grinned. "Made it myself. Like I said yesterday: essential part of my personality."

She motioned for Erin to help put it back on and twisted in her seat. Erin looped the chain around Holtz' neck and latched the clasp, then allowed her fingers to linger there for a few seconds before she dropped her hands.

She cleared her throat. "We…we should head inside."

"Abso-fruitly."

When the two women got inside, Abby was already there, bent over her desk and scribbling madly. She looked up when they entered, and her gaze flickered back and forth between the two of them with a bemused expression on her face. Erin realized quickly what she must be taking in: Holtz' sling, Erin's oversized shirt that Abby would most definitely recognize as being from the science camp they attended together, and of course the fact that they were arriving together. That was a lot of information to process.

Holtzmann was already taking off up the stairs, whistling as she went, before Abby could so much as open her mouth. Erin shot a panicked glance after her, then to Abby.

"Lab accident," she said, as if that could possibly explain everything, and then she stammered something about needing to keep an eye on Holtz, and all but ran up the stairs before Abby could reply.

Holtzmann already had music playing and was flying around her workspace gathering pieces of metal and wire and holding them against her sling. Erin had to shout her name twice before the scientist jumped, letting all the parts clatter to the floor.

"You scared me." She frowned at Erin, and dropped into a crouch to scoop the parts back up with her free arm.

Erin ran to help her. She mumbled an apology under her breath as she deposited an armful of metal onto Holtz' worktable. Holtzmann strode around the table and took a seat on the rolling stool, back in its place after yesterday's incident and looking no worse for wear.

"Should you be sitting on that? After it betrayed you yesterday?" Erin joked.

Holtz just sighed. "Pull up a seat, Gilbert."

Erin dragged a chair over from the other side of the room and sat opposite Holtz. She had a bad feeling in her stomach. Holtz picked up a section of wire and caught it in her teeth. Then she grabbed a wire stripper and began stripping the wire, using her mouth as a second hand. That…looked dangerous.

"You're still doing it," Holtz said through her clenched teeth.

"Mothering?"

Holtzmann must've decided her method wasn't working, because she let the wire fall from her mouth onto the table and set the strippers down. "Exactamundo. I think you forget, sometimes, that I know what I'm doing. I have a very official PhD that can confirm that, if you don't believe me. I've been told I'm pretty smart."

"You're more than smart. You're a genius. I've never met anyone as brilliant as you." The words tumbled out of Erin's mouth before she could filter them.

"Then why do you treat me like an idiot?"

"I don't," Erin said automatically.

Holtz gave her a look. "Erin. You followed me up here immediately after we arrived. You're always _hovering_. You don't have faith in my ability to keep this place from burning to the ground. Just admit it. Unless…" she leaned forward to prop her chin in her hand, and studied Erin with an amused expression. "Unless you have other motivations for hovering."

Erin swallowed and tried to calm her racing heart. "You're right."

Holtzmann's eyebrow rocketed up. "Which theory?"

She could've done it. Erin Gilbert could've confessed her attraction right then and there, and maybe they would've shared a passionate kiss over the worktable, and escaped into the sunset with a cloud of smoke billowing behind them.

She didn't.

"I…I do worry about you. I know that you know what you're doing, but it never seems like that when things are exploding in our faces. You work on a pretty trial-and-error basis, Holtz. I'm just scared that…"

"I'll make the building go boom?" Holtzmann supplied.

"You'll make yourself go boom," Erin said quietly. That was as close to a confession as she was going to get. She hoped that Holtz would find the layers of meaning hidden in her words.

There were a few seconds of silence, interrupted by Patty's booming voice from downstairs as she arrived. Whatever she was saying was cut off, and Erin knew that Abby was frantically whispering to her. Shortly after, there were footsteps on the stairs.

Holtzmann had a contemplative look on her face. She reached across the table and patted Erin's arm. "To be continued," she said, just as the other two Ghostbusters reached the top of the stairs and unleashed a tirade of questions. Holtz greeted them with an easy smile, and launched into a dramatic retelling of the swivel chair incident and the hospital trip, ending with a comment about Erin's hospitality and insistence on watching her overnight.

Erin felt Abby's eyes on her the whole time, even though she made a point of staring at the floor during Holtz' story.

Just then there was a frantic pounding on the door downstairs, and Erin jumped up, eager to get out from underneath Abby's piercing stare. She jogged down the stairs and pulled the door open, half expecting to see Kevin having forgotten his keys again, but instead there was a young short-haired brunette woman, clutching her chest and panting heavily.

"Ghost—in—shop—can—you—help," she rasped in between breaths.

Erin sprung into action, smacking the buzzer that meant they had a call. Seconds later the other three Ghostbusters came running down the stairs and started grabbing their suits.

"Holtz, you're not getting suited up," Abby commanded, and Erin was glad that she didn't have to be the one to forbid the engineer from coming.

To everyone's surprise, Holtzmann didn't argue. Instead she went to talk to the woman at the door. Less than a minute later, they were running out the door following the women, who apparently owned a coffee shop down the street that was being haunted.

It turned out to be a pretty tame ghost. Well, non-malevolent, at least. He was draining a coffee urn onto the floor when they arrived. They got him captured swiftly. He didn't put up much of a fight.

Afterwards, the Ghostbusters volunteered to wipe up the spilled coffee out of pity. A burst of laugher echoed across the tiny coffee shop, and Erin looked up from the spot she was mopping to see the woman and Holtzmann standing _very_ close together. Jealousy rose up in Erin's throat as Holtz gestured wildly with her free hand and told an animated story, maybe a ghost-busting tale, and the woman listened in awe. Erin jabbed the mop into the floor with a little too much force, and she felt Abby's hand on her shoulder.

"Why don't you go pester her for payment and I'll take over the mopping?" Abby said gently.

Erin nodded and passed the mop to her friend. She shoved her hands in her pockets and walked over to the two women. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need to discuss service fees and charges. I can draw up an invoice for you real quick—"

Holtz looked a little annoyed to be cut off. "No need. I'm giving her the Holtzmann special." She grinned at the woman, then stared pointedly at Erin, as if daring her to challenge the freebie.

But Erin was mad, because she didn't want to think about Holtzmann flirting with other women, and she especially didn't want to watch it happen right in front of her. "You're not authorized to do that," she said through a clenched jaw.

"You're not authorized to stop me," Holtz retorted.

"We need the money," Erin hissed.

"I don't mind paying," the woman said.

Erin extended her hand like this was proof of something. "See? She wants to pay."

Abby and Patty came up behind her and each took one of her arms. "Erin, let's head back to headquarters. Holtzy can take care of this," Patty said.

They lead her out of the coffee shop and down the street. "I can walk," Erin snapped, shrugging away their grasps.

"You wanna talk about it, Erin?" Abby said.

"What, talk about the fact that Holtzmann feels like she can give out free busts whenever she sees a hot girl?"

Abby and Patty exchanged a glance. They must've decided that it wasn't worth pressing, because they remained silent for the rest of the walk back. Erin stalked ahead, fuming, and burst into the firehouse. Kevin was there now. He looked up in surprise when the three women entered.

"I thought you guys were upstairs," he said.

In any other circumstances, the Ghostbusters might've taken that as warning that there could be a ghost rattling around, but it was Kevin, so he had probably just been talking to an empty firehouse while they were gone. Erin ignored him and jogged up the stairs. She intended on waiting there until Holtzmann returned so she could interrogate her. When Holtz swaggered up the stairs a few minutes later, she didn't look surprised to see Erin standing there.

"Did you get her number?" Erin meant to sound snotty, but instead she just sounded bitter.

Holtz flashed the phone number penned on her forearm. "As a matter of fact, I did. Problem?"

"You're gay," stated Erin, searching for confirmation. She just wanted to know for sure before she did anything stupid.

Holtzmann's eyebrows crashed through the roof. " _That's_ your problem? Little Erin Gilbert is _homophobic_? Goddamn, that's fresh. Can't say I'm surprised. I am, however, a little stunned that there's a soul on the planet who wasn't aware how gay Dr. Jillian Holtzmann is. I like to think I ooze it. I'm like a beacon of gayness. I'm like a gay—"

And Erin didn't hear the rest because she was closing the distance between them and crushing her lips against Holtzmann's and for a few seconds she was just so proud of herself for making a move.

But then her body registered that something was wrong. Holtzmann wasn't kissing her back. Erin broke away and took in Holtz' shocked expression and her brain was going _shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot_ and she didn't know what to do so she did the only thing she could do.

She ran.


	6. Chapter 6

Erin burst out of the doors of the firehouse and kept running. She made it a few blocks before she heard someone shouting her name, and she looked back to see Abby running after her. Erin slowed, and stopped to lean against a building, catching her breath. Any stamina she had while hunting ghosts was clearly attributable to adrenaline and not much else, she decided as she panted. Abby caught up, and she was also out of breath.

"What the _hell_ is going on, Erin?"

"I kissed Holtzmann," Erin blurted before she could filter herself. "And she didn't kiss me back," she said, quieter.

All the puzzle pieces clicked together and it registered on Abby's face. "Oh. _Oh._ " She contemplated that for a moment, then linked her arm through Erin's. "Let's go sit and chat."

They found a coffee shop a few blocks away and soon they were seated across from each other, sipping from their respective drinks. Erin didn't say anything. She could sense that Abby was working through what to say.

"So here's the thing," Abby began. "I've been doing some research."

That wasn't where Erin expected the conversation to begin, but Abby was notorious for finding roundabout ways to calm Erin down when she was freaking out.

"Ghost research?"

"Holtzmann research."

Erin's mouth dried up. "Oh." She looked down at her coffee. It seemed like ages ago since her last cup, with Holtz sitting across from her in her tiny apartment kitchen. How had that only been that morning?

"It's been a long-term study. I've done a lot of careful examination. Cross-checked my data points."

Erin sighed, because Abby was obviously waiting for her to ask. "What have you concluded?"

"Not a lot. See, I've known Holtzmann for a while. I've started to notice certain patterns of behavior. I thought I had her pretty figured out, or at least in one respect."

"And what respect might that be?"

"Her flirting." Abby took a sip of her coffee. "There's a pattern, like I said. She flirts with every single woman she comes across."

"That makes me feel loads better. Thanks a bunch, Abs."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Be quiet and listen. Holtzmann flirts with every woman she comes across, and from that point it goes in one of two directions. Either the woman is interested, in which case Holtz reels her in, hook, line, and sinker, in a matter of hours—minutes, sometimes—or the woman isn't interested and the moment is over. Holtzmann's flirting lasts a day, tops. Just long enough to either get the woman in her bed or to get rejected and move on."

Erin felt ill. "So what you're saying is she's a…player." The word sounded painfully dorky leaving Erin's mouth.

"Well…yeah. But that's not where I'm going with this. So, that was the pattern, right? I've known Holtzmann for many years, and that was the pattern. Flirt, move on. Flirt, move on. It was predictable."

Erin sensed a 'but' coming on.

"But then…you came along. Showed up in our lab unannounced. And Holtz flirted with you, of course, which was to be expected."

 _Come here often?_ Erin still heard the words in her head, could see the engineer in that tiny basement lab with her feet propped up on the desk in front of her, blowtorch in hand, the picture of nonchalance.

"And then my data got completely screwed up. Because the next day, she was still flirting with you. And the day after that. And the day after that. And damn near every day since then. And I've had to rethink everything and factor in new variables…and it's been months of observation and I'm still baffled as to why she keeps flirting with you."

"Thanks a lot. I'll try not to be too offended."

"I don't mean it like that. I just mean that this is so unprecedented for Holtzmann. And it goes beyond normal flirting, too. I mean there's the winks and the saucy comments and the pick-up lines and those are all normal, although not in this excess, but there's also the way she lets you get first pick of new weapons, and the way she carves out time in her day to show you what she's working on, and the fact that she gave you her _freaking_ Swiss Army knife as a present…"

"She gave me _a_ Swiss Army knife." The blush on Erin's cheeks had spread to her chest with blotchy red marks. "Didn't she give everyone one?"

Abby shot her a look that said very plainly 'you're an idiot.'

"No, Erin, she did not give everyone one. She gave you _her_ Swiss Army knife. Her well-loved Swiss Army knife. I know because a few days later, I overheard her fighting with a new one that kept getting jammed."

Erin thought about that, and the fact that the knife had seemed used. Scuffed here and there. The gadgets moved with ease like they had been flipped out and back in countless times. Oh. "Why would she do that?"

"Exactly. I think the inventions and the knife and all the other little techy presents are like, the Holtzmann version of chocolate and flowers. Which brings me back to what I was saying before, about how unprecedented this is, because I've never seen her try so hard to impress someone. So, as you can see, I've been giving this all a lot of thought and observation, and in my quest to figure out this puzzle, which I'm calling the Holtzmann Problem, I've come up with two hypotheses but no definitive conclusion."

"What are your hypotheses?" Erin asked, because she was a big fan of the scientific method.

"The first is that Holtz is getting mixed signals from you. No immediate gratification _or_ rejection. So you two are existing in a state of limbo while Holtz continues to flirt and you continue to avoid going down either path."

Well, she wasn't _wrong_. "And the second?"

Abby gulped down the last of her coffee and studied Erin across the table. "The second hypothesis is that Holtzmann likes you. Really likes you. And she's never experienced anything like that before, and she doesn't know what to do about it. So, she's doing what she always does, except more drawn out. And with gifts that anyone else would find glaringly obvious, but you, Erin, are completely oblivious to."

"How do your hypotheses hold up with the new data point?" Erin said quietly.

"I haven't had time to properly think it through. But I think that months of data can't be ignored for one anomaly."

"She rejected me. That's not an anomaly. That's…a pretty obvious sign."

"Look, Erin. I'm pretty sure I know the answer, but I'm going to ask anyway. Do you like her?"

"I'm…attracted to her," Erin replied, because that much she could allow.

Abby dismissed that with a wave of her hand. "Well yeah, most people are. But if that were all, you would've gone down path one right off the bat, like the rest of us."

"Wait, what? What do you mean 'the rest of us'? Did…did she flirt with you too when you met her?"

"Well, duh. What part of 'every woman' did you not understand?"

"And you…"

Abby coughed. "Let's just say that to this day, that woman is the only exception to my asexuality. She's the only person I've ever been attracted to like that. And yeah, we…well, anyways. It was just a one-time thing. We've been good friends ever since."

Erin just stared, shocked.

Abby must've realized that this probably wasn't the best thing to have said and started defending herself. "I'm not the only one, okay? You know how charming she is. Patty hooked up with her too, the first day we met her, before she came back to join us."

" _Seriously?_ And you guys continue to work beside her every day? That's…that's…that's fricked up. Why would you tell me that? Am I just another conquest? Is her goal to sleep her way through the entire team?"

"Probably not Kevin," Abby interjected, and Erin shot her a death glare.

"She's probably just flirting with me because she wants to add me to her list, and then she'll use me and toss me aside, and _why did you tell me this_?"

"So that answers my question, huh? You do like her. Or you wouldn't care."

"How could I not care? How could you and Patty hook up with her and then not care that she left you out to dry the next day? How does that not bother you?"

"You have it all wrong. It's not like Patty or I wanted anything more from her. And she didn't want any more from us. It's like…you know the first time you were in the same room as a Van de Graaff generator and there was some part of you that really wanted to go touch it, just to see what it felt like? See how much of a shock it gave? And once you had tried it, you knew you wouldn't touch it again, even though it wasn't that bad. It's like giving into your morbid curiosity, but once is enough. You don't need to be shocked again. You know what it's like."

Erin was trying to follow Abby's logic. "So, what you're saying is that Holtzmann is a Van de Graaff generator?"

Abby nodded. Erin tried to connect the idea with her attraction to Holtz, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't fathom the idea of hooking up with Holtz only once and being satisfied with that.

"To go back to what you said earlier, about Holtz seeing you as a future conquest…Erin, if you honestly think that, then you need to open your eyes a little. I refer you to my second hypothesis. Now, we'd better get back to headquarters before we get another call and Holtz and Patty have to deal with it alone."

Erin just nodded and let herself be dragged back to the firehouse, her head swirling with thoughts the whole way.


	7. Chapter 7

Patty looked up from her stack of papers with a raised eyebrow when the two women entered, but she didn't make a big scene or demand to know what happened. Erin took a seat at her desk and began studying her notes from the problem she had been working on last night before Holtz' explosion had derailed her. Suddenly she spotted a string of numbers that she had somehow missed before, and she leapt up to go madly start erasing the equations on the whiteboard and start from scratch. It was a relief to have a distraction, and she threw herself into the work. She barely even noticed the loud thumps and crashes coming from upstairs. Well, she noticed them, but she didn't let them break her concentration.

An hour or so later, she did lose her train of thought when she heard heavy clunking footsteps coming down the stairs. Erin froze at the whiteboard, marker poised over the surface, grateful that her back was to the stairs. She heard the footsteps cross the room, and then the front door opened and slammed shut.

"You can stop looking so paralyzed now," Abby said when Erin still hadn't moved a few seconds later.

Erin spun around. "Did she look upset? Angry?" She hated how desperate her voice sounded.

"Determined," supplied Patty.

Erin's mind started to race with possibilities why Holtz could look determined. When the engineer still hadn't returned hours later, the thought that kept surfacing was that Holtz had gone back to the coffee shop to meet the brunette woman.

Their takeout for lunch arrived, and they were all seated around the table eating with Kevin when the door flew open and Holtzmann staggered in. A massive cardboard box overflowing with parts was propped against her hip. Erin froze again, and she watched as Holtz pulled the door shut with her foot and crossed the room without saying a word or looking in their direction.

"There's food here for you, Holtzy," Patty said.

"Later," Holtzmann called over her shoulder as she climbed the stairs.

They finished eating and a loud banging noise, like hammering, began upstairs. As Abby cleaned up, Patty bounded up the stairs with Holtzmann's food. The noise stopped, there were a few seconds of muffled conversation, and Patty returned. Abby and Erin looked at her expectantly, but she just shrugged with a bewildered expression. The hammering started again.

Despite the noise distractions, Erin continued her work. She was getting so close to figuring this out. She worked all the way through the afternoon and there was never another ghost call, which was for the best. She kept writing and rewriting numbers until her hand was cramped and they all blurred together and she could no longer remember what she had tried and what she hadn't. At 5:00 on the dot, Patty left, like she always did, and so did Kevin. At 5:30, Erin fetched her lunch leftovers from the minifridge and ate while sitting on her desk, staring at the whiteboard. She seemed to be getting further and further away from her breakthrough the more she worked. Maybe this was just an impossible problem.

At 6:45, 45 minutes after she usually went home, Erin finally threw down her whiteboard pen in frustration.

"Go home," Abby suggested.

Erin hesitated. She knew that if Holtzmann wanted to talk to her, she would've come down ages ago. It wouldn't matter if Erin stayed another hour or another five hours. Besides, it sounded like Holtz was still working madly up there.

Even so, Erin made a big show of getting ready to go home. She walked a little louder than she normally did, and she paused near the foot of the stairs as she slung her purse over her shoulder and said in a carrying voice: "Guess I'll head out, then."

It was obvious, too obvious, but it worked. The second floor fell quiet. Erin hovered for another few seconds, and then with a sigh she waved to Abby and left. Outside, she hailed a cab. The driver pulled up to the curb, and she opened the door and slid into the back seat. She was pulling her seatbelt across her chest when a flurry of movement by the firehouse door caught her eye.

It was Holtzmann, running with a large piece of machinery clutched in her free arm.

The cab driver started to pull away from the curb. "Wait!" Erin nearly shouted.

Holtz reached the car and Erin unclipped her seatbelt and opened the door.

"Scooch over," Holtzmann said.

Erin did, and Holtz slid into the seat next to her. She deposited the machine onto her lap and pulled the door shut. Then she was telling the cab driver an address, and Erin recognized it immediately as Holtz' address.

She sat with wide eyes as they drove off. She wasn't sure what to make of the situation, and she wasn't sure if she should be the first to say something, so she didn't. They drove in silence. Holtzmann's relaxed vibe filled the car and made it a little easier for Erin to breathe.

They pulled up to Holtz' townhouse and she produced some crumpled bills from her pocket for the driver. Then she climbed out of the cab and looked down at Erin, who was frozen because she realized she didn't know if Holtzmann expected her to follow or not, and she was terrified of what the implications of going inside were, especially after her talk with Abby earlier.

"You coming, Gilbert?" Holtz asked.

Erin scrambled out of the car without thinking and thanked the driver. She followed Holtz up the front steps and into the chaos room again, and it was surreal being back there when so much had changed since the last time. Holtz didn't turn on any lights, but there was a heating lamp in Hypatia's tank that was giving off a little light and there was a strange red glow coming from somewhere else in the room.

"Wait here," Holtzmann commanded. Then she was gone. Erin stood by Hypatia's tank and resisted the urge to ask the reptile what was going on. The radio in the corner was still playing quietly. Footsteps thumped overhead and then briefly the sound of furniture being pushed or pulled across the floor. Was she cleaning? Lighting candles and sprinkling rose petals? Setting up some sort of elaborate BDSM contraption? None of the above?

Erin didn't know how many minutes had passed before Holtz finally called: "Okay, come on up!"

Her heart was beating at a superhuman speed as she bade Hypatia farewell and carefully picked her way over the mounds of junk on the floor. She accidentally knocked a stack of papers off table in her nervousness. They joined other papers lying on the floor, so Erin left them, unsure of which ones were which, and hoped that they hadn't been too important.

At the foot of the stairs she started panicking. Really panicking. She tried to remember one of the old grounding exercises that her therapist had taught her do when she was having a panic attack.

Five things she could see. She looked back into the room and counted in her head: Hypatia, a wrench, a photo of Maria Goeppert-Mayer, a blowtorch, and a doodle of some sort of gun in the corner of one of the chalkboards.

She was breathing a little better now.

Four things she could touch. The doorframe at the base of the stairs. The little plastic buttons on her shirt. Her hair. The itchy fabric of her skirt.

She had almost calmed down.

Three things she could hear. The radio, playing a croony love song. The low humming of a machine, maybe the one that was producing the red glow.

"Erin?"

She guessed that was number three. "Coming!" She tried to sound normal, but her voice cracked.

She wasn't done the exercise, but that would have to do. She placed a hand on the banister and took the biggest breath she had ever taken in her life.

And then she went upstairs.


	8. Chapter 8

_"To be with someone else was to let them close. Erin still believed that any sane person would laugh if she shared her soul with them. Take the secrets she had worked so hard to keep and run with them, out into the street, brandishing them like a grenade, ready to explode Erin's carefully crafted life._

 _But Holtzmann wasn't a sane person. And Holtzmann, while talented at causing explosions, was also great at fixing them."_

* * *

The top of the stairs gave way to a large open-concept living room and kitchen. The lights were off here, too, except for a single lamp with a floral shade and fringe hanging from the rim, which was too tacky to have come from anywhere but a thrift store or garage sale. It sat on top of a multi-drawered metal tool cabinet.

Holtz was standing there with something small and metal in her hand. She was shifting her weight from foot to foot, and Erin realized that she looked _nervous_. For the first time since she met the engineer, Holtz was nervous. This was the woman who would eat snacks while staring down a ghost. The woman who never faltered from the confidence she wore like one of her oversized coats.

And for the first time, Erin wondered if the confidence was a show.

"Hi. So. I owe you at least three apologies," Holtzmann began. She was speaking in a fast but stilted way, like she had when she made her toast back when they had just saved the city. The toast where she had said they had shown her how to love while looking right at Erin, which she had forgotten about until now. "But I'm not very good with words. I am good at building things. So, I built you something. To apologize."

She fiddled with the metal thing in her hand and Erin noticed the red button on it. Some kind of remote? Detonator? Was Holtzmann going to blow her up?

Holtz watched Erin as her thumb found the button. As she pushed it, Erin flinched and squeezed her eyes shut. It was an involuntary reaction. Self-preservation.

There was no explosion. "Open your eyes, Gilbert," Holtz said. Erin could hear the smirk in her voice. She opened her eyes slowly and took in no fire, just Holtzmann, grinning madly.

Then she saw what Holtz had done.

Her mouth fell open as she took in the sight in front of her. Holtzmann's ceiling had been transformed into the night sky.

"My sources tell me that stargazing is among the more romantic date ideas, but I have a massive nuclear reactor on my roof, so I spent all day building a projector so I could bring the stars here. It's a live video feed from my roof, so it's as close to accurate as we're gonna get." Holtz paused, a look of horror crossing her face. "Shit. Pretend you didn't hear the thing about the reactor. Nobody knows it's up there and when Homeland Security finds out, I don't want you going down as an accomplice."

Erin laughed at that: one of her weird, nervous, giggle-laughs. Holtz tossed the remote underneath the lamp and gestured for Erin to follow her. On the floor in front of the couch, Holtzmann had set up some sort of blanket and pillow nest. She laid down and patted the floor beside her. Erin awkwardly stepped over Holtz and laid down on her back next to the engineer. The stars were even more magnificent looking from that vantage point. The two women were silent except for their breathing.

 _Two things Erin could smell. 1) Holtzmann. 2) Holtzmann._

She didn't feel panicked now.

"What are the three apologies?" she asked quietly.

"I'm sorry for not kissing you back. I'm sorry for not doing this sooner. And I'm sorry that I flirted with that woman in front of you. That was a dick move."

"It's okay," Erin murmured.

"Nah, it's not. See, I…I like flirting. It's fun. It makes me feel good about myself. For a long time, nobody liked me. Nobody talked to me. Nobody. I was the weird kid. The weird teenager. When I realized that I could make people like me with a well timed wink or pick-up line, I ran with it. I use it to my advantage. Women want to see if I'm as crazy in the sheets as I am in the lab, see if the Snozzberries taste like Snozzberries, and I let them. It's nice to feel wanted, even if only for one night."

Erin said nothing. She watched a blinking plane cross the sky and thought about how Abby was right with her Van de Graaff generator theory.

"But as time progressed I realized that one night was all I was ever going to get. I'm not the type of girl that anyone wants to bring home to meet their folks, by a long stretch. I kept saying to myself: 'Well, Holtz, be grateful that you even get this,' because that's more than I ever thought I would. And it's not like it was bad, or anything, it just started to feel like not enough. Like I said, it feels good to be wanted, but there's sexual want and then there's emotional want, and I've never been wanted in the emotional way. Does that make sense?"

"I mean, I've never been wanted in either way, but I understand what you mean."

"I want you," Holtz said instantly, almost angrily.

"In which way?" Erin was almost afraid to ask.

"In every way."

Erin let that wash over her and her chest went very tight and she thought she might cry, staring up at the stars that Holtzmann had made for her. Holtz' hand found hers and their fingers interlaced and then she was speaking again.

"In the beginning, I flirted with you because you were cute and because that's what I do. Then it became a game. It was fun to see how you reacted and I wanted to make you as flustered as you were around Kevin, because man, was that ever hilarious. I wanted you to have a bi awakening on my behalf."

"You're about 15 years late on that one," Erin interjected.

Holtzmann snorted. "Damn."

"Sorry for interrupting. Continue."

"Right. I got so caught up in it—flirting with you, I mean—but somewhere along the line it stopped being a game and started being a desperate plea because I was falling for you, hard. And I kept flirting because I thought maybe if I seduced you, you'd finally be the one to think I was worth keeping around. That sounds so stupid now, but that's the way my brain works. So I flirted, and flirted, and did stuff that didn't even make sense to me, and sometimes I'd catch you looking at me and I knew that my efforts were working. You were intrigued like so many before you. What I missed, though, until earlier today, was that you, Erin Gilbert, you care about me."

She said the last part with teasing in her voice.

"All my life, people have been worried about me. Not worried about my well being, but worried about what I'm capable of. I assumed you were the same. I thought you hovered because you were worried about what I could do and how much I could destroy. But our conversation earlier revealed that yeah, you worry about me burning down the building in my carelessness, but you also worry about _me_. You care. I don't know what that's like, to have someone care. So when you kissed me later—"

Erin flinched at the memory.

"—I was still caught up in the fact that you might actually like me, as a person, not as some interesting oddity to take home and explore. And it was so sudden. And I was taken off guard."

"I'm confused. If you were caught up in the fact that I might like you, then why did you go and flirt with that woman immediately afterwards?"

"I'm good at destroying things," Holtzmann answered simply. "Like, really good."

"Don't need to convince me on that one."

Holtz laughed and squeezed Erin's hand. "So, yeah. End of rambly confession time. The highlight reel in case you weren't paying attention: I like you, a lot. So much it kind of scares me sometimes. And some other less mushy stuff was in there too. Mostly a self-pity party."

Erin made a small noise as she contemplated that. "For the record, I want you in every way too. Even the emotional way. Especially the emotional way."

"Whaaaaat?"

"You heard me."

Holtzmann released Erin's hand and did an exaggerated 'yessss' motion. "Score!"

Then she took Erin's hand again and they laid there on their backs, looking up at the stars. Erin really wanted to kiss Holtz again, but she also didn't want to disturb the moment, because just lying there felt special. In fact, this felt more intimate than anything else she had ever experienced. Even the awkward sexual encounters she'd had in college didn't hold a candle to this.

"So when you say 'every way,' you also mean sexually, right?" Holtz said suddenly, brightly. "I sure hope so, because there are things I've wanted to do to you since you—"

"Holtz!" Erin felt her face grow hot.

"What?" Holtzmann said innocently, with a smirk in her voice. "You know you love me."

It was a normal expression. She probably had said it without thinking. But Erin fell silent. "I think I might," she whispered finally.

Holtz was quiet too. "Is this what love feels like?" she mused. She rolled over onto her side and Erin did the same, so they were facing one another.

"I'm not sure."

"It's a valid hypothesis."

"We might need to collect some more data."

"Or just try a bunch of things until we get the results we're looking for."

"That's such a Holtzmann method."

"You know it, chickadee."

And then Holtz let go of Erin's hand and moved it to cup her face and she was kissing her and it was so soft, and so tender, and all memories of earlier in the day disappeared from Erin's head because _this_ was their first kiss, and it was so perfect that when Holtz pulled away, there were tears in Erin's eyes.

Holtz looked worried, suddenly, and her hand moved to wipe the tears from Erin's cheek. "Did I do something wrong?" Her voice was panicked.

"I'm just really happy," Erin said quickly, and Holtz' face relaxed into a smile.

Then they were kissing again.

 _One thing she could taste_. Erin had never felt more grounded, or more content in her life. She never wanted to move from this spot, beside Holtzmann.

So they didn't move. They stayed there, under the stars, talking through the night and making out when there were silences. Erin asked Holtz all the questions that she had been too afraid to ask before.

"Why does nobody call you Jillian?" she asked at some point late into the night. Erin had moved so she was seated with her back against the couch, and Holtz was curled up with her head resting in Erin's lap. Erin was playing with her hair, which was so much softer than she expected. She had already learned that Holtz didn't use any hair products to create her signature 'do. And, Erin had been right about the engineer washing her hair with hand soap. She wasn't sure how it was so soft.

"Hmm," Holtzmann said, contemplating Erin's question. "I have such bad memories associated with that name. _Crazy Jill went up the hill to set the school on fire. She found her tomb when it went boom and psycho Jillian died there._ " She recited the rhyme in a monotone.

Erin's fingers paused in their combing of Holtz' hair. "My God. That's horrific. It's a beautiful name. I'm sorry they ruined it for you."

"It was a long time ago. I've gotten used to Holtzmann. I almost forget who Jillian was."

"I think you're still Jillian. Just older and wiser and with people who love you surrounding you."

Holtz looked up to meet Erin's eyes. "I like the way it sounds coming out of your mouth. It almost drowns out the assholes in my head."

"Does that mean I can call you Jillian?"

"I'll allow it, but only because you're really pretty and I think I'm in love with you."

Erin leaned down to press a kiss to Jillian's forehead. "I think I'm in love with you too, Jillian Holtzmann."

Jillian smirked. "You forgot the Dr."

They moved on. Jillian pointed out constellations on the ceiling. She made up a few of her own and gave them grandiose names, except for the little cluster that she named Erin.

Every once in a while, Erin would interject another question or comment. She learned that a large lab accident had resulted in the government firing Jillian from her fancy-pants job ("For the best. They all had sticks up their butts, like you when I met you," Jillian conceded), and she had learned that Jillian wore boxers because she had an obsession with letting her crotch breathe ("It's very important to me!"). That one had made Erin laugh.

They swapped stories about when they realized they were queer. Jillian had known since she was in elementary school, and she had come out when she declared she wanted to marry a girl in her class. When her parents said that wasn't allowed, Jillian didn't speak to them for weeks. Erin told her about the crush she'd had on a female celebrity (she couldn't remember which one, now) that had lead to her 'bi awakening.' She recalled coming out to Abby and being so terrified that she wouldn't want to be friends anymore, but Abby had baked her a congratulatory cake.

Later, Jillian went and made them both mugs of hot chocolate and they sat cross-legged on the couch with their knees touching. Erin sipped from a mug that said Science Rules! on it and it was Jillian's turn to ask the questions. Erin told her more about the traumatizing events of her childhood. She talked about how she didn't sleep properly for that entire year that her neighbour haunted her, and how her Ghost Girl nickname was two-fold. She resembled a ghost that year: she was never present, sickly and pale, leading a half-existence. She talked about how the kids at school had competitions among them for who could get her to shriek the loudest by scaring her. They were always lurking around corners with sheets and masks, or rigging up contraptions in her locker that would spring something at her when she unlocked it. It took months—years—before the mere sight of something white didn't give her a panic attack.

They had finished their hot chocolate and their mugs had retired to the floor, and Jillian held Erin's hand across the couch while she spoke. She talked about how much residual resentment she had towards her parents for not believing her. She disclosed her fears about letting someone in, and the feeling of being ignored that still haunted her. How she still worried about people thinking she was crazy.

"Good news," Jillian said, "I'm much crazier than you'll ever be, so you can stop worrying about that." She leaned over and kissed Erin. Then she drew back slightly, leaning her forehead against Erin's, and she whispered into her lips: "And I couldn't ignore you even if I tried, Erin."

It was sometime around then that exhaustion set in for both of them, and they wordlessly stretched out into an entwined embrace on the narrow couch. Jillian snagged a blanket off the ground and pulled it over them, and they fell asleep like that, twisted into each other like they were one, Jillian's head against Erin's chest.

And Erin was sleeping in her work clothes for the second night in a row, and she didn't care; in fact, she'd make a habit of it if it meant she could spend every night with Jillian.

The sun rose around them, and in a few short hours Erin would wake in the same position, and she would carefully disentangle herself and go make breakfast, because she had promised. And it would turn out that Jillian's kitchen, while better stocked than Erin's, only contained junk food, so Erin would make a pot of KD for them to share, because it was a slightly better breakfast than Pringles. Jillian would wake up and join Erin, and they would sit across from each other at the kitchen table and eat their meal right out of the pot. Jillian would crack sleepy jokes about Erin's work clothes, and Erin would marvel over how cute Jillian's bedhead was.

And later, after a lazy morning, they would arrive at work together, hours late, Erin dressed in an ensemble that was clearly Jillian's. Patty would stare with an open mouth, and Abby would smile with endearing smugness, and Kevin wouldn't notice anything, and Erin and Jillian would escape upstairs, hand in hand.

And there would be many, many mornings like this.

Because both of them had let the other in.

Explosions be damned.


	9. Epilogue

_one year later_

Erin Gilbert had a problem. A big problem. A massive problem.

A problem that was currently sprawled backwards in bed beside Erin, periodically kicking her in the shoulder in a way that didn't really hurt, but was mildly annoying regardless.

A problem by the name of Dr. Jillian Holtzmann.

The problem wasn't the way she slept—Erin had long ago gotten used to that and accepted it as a quirk that she'd unfortunately never be able to change. The problem was Jillian herself.

She was too damn _perfect_ and all around the most amazing girlfriend Erin could've asked for. It was infuriating.

Especially considering their first anniversary was coming up, and she just knew that Jillian was going to go all out and plan a surprise that would blow anything Erin could come up with out of the water. It was unfair. Erin wasn't good at that sort of thing, and Jillian was _too_ good. Their first date with the star projector that Holtz had built was only the beginning in a long string of equally as thoughtful gifts and surprises.

And now Erin had to pull off an anniversary present that topped everything Jillian had done for her over the course of the entire year.

Simple, right?

Jillian bumped her shoulder again on cue. Erin sighed fondly. The sun was beginning to rise and spill through the curtains, just enough to illuminate the wild mess of blonde hair at the foot of the bed.

Erin was so in love with her.

How could she ever repay her?

"What am I going to do, Abby?" Erin dropped her head onto her desk with a thunk.

"For God's sake, this isn't quantum physics."

"I know. _That_ I'm good at."

"Erin."

Erin peeled her head up to see Abby glaring at her from her own desk, which was pushed together facing Erin's.

"How do I show her how much I love her?"

"When did you guys become so gross? Patty, when did their love become so gross?"

Erin waved her hand. "Keep your voice down." Jillian was still technically upstairs, although the music she blasted was usually as much soundproofing as they needed.

Patty rolled over in her desk chair. "What are we talking about?"

"How Erin and Holtz are so in love that it makes me wanna barf."

Erin threw her pen at Abby's head. "Our anniversary is in a few days and I still don't know what to do for her. You know how she is…there's no way I'll be able to top whatever she's got planned."

Patty shrugged. "So don't try. You can't pull off a Holtzy-level surprise, so you might as well scrap that idea and do something that _Erin_ would do."

"But that's just it. I don't know what Erin would do. Nothing I think of is worthy of her."

"Listen, Erin, man, you gotta lighten up. She'll love you even if all you do is buy her a new blowtorch. Hell, she'd probably love you _more_ if all you did was buy her a new blowtorch. Point is, she'll love whatever you do, because it'll be from you. You could murder someone for her and she'd still think it was romantic. Girl's head over heels."

"I know, I know." Erin shuffled the papers on her desk so they were neatly lined up. "I just want to do something special for her after all she's done for me. I feel indebted."

"Shit, I don't know." Patty laughed. "Propose to her or something. That'll surprise her."

Erin started to sweat immediately. "What?! Propose? To Jillian? Me? For our anniversary? Propose?"

"Calm down, I was joking."

Abby threw back the pen. "You know, that could work."

The pen bounced off Erin's chest as she started to splutter.

"You're insane. You've got to be kidding. How could I—where would I—how would—"

"Okay, Patty's right, you need to chill. Don't bust an artery."

"You really think Jillian is interested in marriage? Jillian Holtzmann? _Marriage?_ "

Abby and Patty exchanged a look, then burst into laughter.

"See, I knew you were joking," Erin muttered.

Patty's hand landed on Erin's arm in a consolatory pat. "No, baby, we're laughing because Holtzy would be interested in _anything_ if it was with you."

"Seriously, you're blind _and_ an idiot if you can't see that Holtzmann's chomping at the bit to lock you down forever."

" _What?_ Where is any of this coming from? Do you guys know something I don't?" Erin was starting to panic. "Is she planning on…for our anniversary…?"

"What, proposing?" Abby laughed. "God knows. She hasn't told us anything. Although, I doubt she is…she would totally enlist our help if she was."

"Or at the very least, she wouldn't be able to keep from telling us. She'd be too excited."

Abby pointed at Patty. "True. So if you go for it now, you know you're beating her to it. Boom. Huge surprise."

Erin shook her head. "Think about who you're talking to. You really think _I_ could pull that off?"

Patty lifted an eyebrow. "Hold up, you're actually considering it?"

"No!" Erin scrunched up her face. "I don't know! But even if I was, there's no way I could pull off a worthy surprise proposal. I would forget what I was supposed to say, or lose the ring, or spill the beans early, or…I don't know, but I couldn't do it."

Abby crossed her arms and swivelled back and forth in her chair. "What makes you think it has to be some perfect, elaborate thing?"

"Because that's what she would do."

"You could literally shove a ring up her nose and she would still say yes."

"Abby, please."

"She's right. You gotta listen to us, Erin."

Erin dropped her head back down to her desk. "Leave me alone."

"That's what you get for asking our help," Abby said.

Erin groaned.

Patty was right earlier. There was no way Erin could pull off a huge surprise or gift, and even if she did, Jillian was still probably going to do something better. Why should she even bother trying?

Erin woke up on the morning of their anniversary to, surprise, another kick to her shoulder. Now well awake, she stared up at the ceiling.

Over the past few days she had resigned to just accepting whatever Jillian had in store. She had bought an anniversary card at the store, then threw it out because it seemed even worse than doing nothing at all.

Now that she was up before Jillian, though, she could at least make breakfast and pretend that was her gift. Slowly and gently, so as not to wake her sleeping girlfriend, she slid from the bed and padded out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen.

Ever since she had moved in to Jillian's townhouse, the pantry and fridge were much better stocked than they ever had been at either of their places when they lived alone. It was something about being together that brought out the best habits in both of them. Greater than the sum of their parts, and all that.

Erin fetched a carton of eggs from the fridge along with a green onion and a block of cheddar. She set to work scrambling eggs (she may have had more food in the house, but that didn't mean her cooking skills had improved that much). When they were sufficiently whipped, she grated and incorporated the cheese and added sliced green onion.

Once her pan had heated up, so she poured the bowl of eggs in and grabbed a spatula. She hummed softly to herself as she stirred and flipped the eggs until they were just barely cooked. Then the digital clock on the stove display caught her eye. It was only 5:30am, which meant that Jillian probably wouldn't be awake for at least a half hour. Of course she had missed that in her sleep-addled state.

She turned the oven on. She could keep the eggs warm in there until Jillian woke up. While she waited for it to preheat, she rearranged the fridge magnets (those primary coloured alphabet magnets that children play with) to spell ou Y. She couldn't find an H.

The oven still wasn't ready, so she headed downstairs to the Disaster Room (as she had long called it—the cleanliness and organization of the room was outside of her control and she had made her peace with it) with a head of romaine. Hypatia was awake in her terrarium and blinked under the light from her heating lamp. The iguana still freaked Erin out a bit, but she'd gotten used to her.

Erin tore off a few hunks of the lettuce and deposited them into the tank, then gave Hypatia a gentle pat. Then she turned and stepped in the direction of the staircase, only to have her foot connect with some loose paper on the ground that she didn't notice and slip, sending her falling forward in slow-motion towards the ground. And, stupidly, she didn't realize until far too late that she should let go of the head of lettuce to catch her fall, and instead crashed into the linoleum face-first, hard.

For a few seconds, she was too stunned to move, and then she pushed herself upright and instantly felt her nose throbbing. Her hand felt for it immediately and then she retracted it quickly when it came back wet. She looked down to see blood covering her fingers.

She swore and clambered to standing, cupping under her nose to try and catch the blood. She tried pinching, but the bone screamed in protest. She stumbled her way upstairs, leaving the lettuce abandoned on the floor.

In the kitchen, she grabbed the roll of paper towels and, too panicked to think clearly, held the whole roll up under her nose instead of tearing off some sheets.

"What's going on?"

Erin jumped and flailed at the sudden voice, and in doing so managed to bump the handle of the frying pan that was carelessly hanging off the edge of the stove. The entire pan, eggs and all, clattered to the floor. Erin spun around to see Jillian, naked save for a pair of Pokémon-print boxers, her hair loose and messy, looking suddenly alert.

She was at Erin's side in an instant. "Holy shit, that's a gusher."

Then she was pulling Erin down the hall to the bathroom, kicking the door open and ushering her inside. Once Erin was positioned in front of the sink, Jillian coaxed the paper towel away.

Her eyes widened at the same time that Erin's did as they took in the bloody mess that was Erin's nose (and her shirt).

"What happened?"

"I was feeding Hypatia and I slipped on some papers," Erin said, her voice nasal.

"Shit. That's my bad. I'll go get you some ice. Be right back." Jillian flitted from the room, leaving Erin alone in the bathroom.

Her eyes welled up, partly from frustration and partly from the pain. Her nose throbbed. What had she been thinking, trying to make breakfast at 5:30 in the morning? This is what she deserved. If she had been more awake, she would've noticed the papers on the ground.

Jillian reappeared with a bag of ice. Erin took it and gently rested it on her nose, which was barely bleeding anymore. She hoped it would block the tears in her eyes from view.

Jillian noticed anyway. She carefully wiped them away. "Does it really hurt?"

"No, it's just…I ruined everything," Erin said.

"What do you mean?" Jillian murmured as she wet a facecloth and lifted it to wash away the drying blood. Erin moved the ice pack out of her way.

"It's our anniversary and I knew I wouldn't be able to do something amazing but I thought I could at least do _breakfast_ and feed Hypatia, but apparently I can't even manage that. I'm so sorry."

"Erin. Don't _apologize_ for hurting yourself, especially when it was my carelessness that caused you to fall. Speaking of which…this doesn't look good. I might have to take you to emerg."

"What? It's just a little nosebleed!"

"I hate to break it to you, but your entire nose is crooked."

Erin leaned in to the mirror, seeing instantly what Jillian was talking about now that her face was clean. Her lip wavered. "Shoot, it is, isn't it?"

Jillian quickly stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to Erin's cheek. "Happy anniversary, my love," she said when she'd pulled away. "I'd rather spend it in the hospital with you and know you're okay than not, alright?"

Erin bit her lip and nodded.

Jillian got dressed quickly and helped Erin change out of her pajamas while she kept the ice on her nose.

"It's really sweet that you thought to feed Hypatia," Jillian said as she helped Erin walk slowly through the Disaster Room.

"I thought so too," Erin muttered.

"As soon as we get back, I'm cleaning up the entire room. I promise."

Outside, they hailed a cab and slid into the back seat with a box of Kleenex in case her nose started bleeding again. Erin tapped her foot on the floor impatiently, trying to distract herself from the pain.

"This seems familiar," Jillian said, taking Erin's free hand.

"What does?"

"Going to the hospital with you. You remember when—"

"Of course I remember." How could she forget the injury that inadvertently led to the two of them getting together? The crack in Jillian's collarbone had long since healed, but the memories would never fade.

"Hard to believe that was a year ago."

"Hard to believe that this time it's _me_ who was an idiot and hurt myself," Erin cracked.

Jillian frowned and lazily thumbed the back of Erin's hand. "Except it was still me who was the idiot and left my shit lying around. Does it hurt a lot?"

"No," Erin lied. "I'm telling you, this isn't necessary. I'm ruining our anniversary for nothing."

"Erin _Gilbert._ It is not _nothing._ You have a broken nose. Besides, you're not ruining anything. Sure, this isn't exactly how our day was supposed to go, but I'm flexible. If I have to cancel some plans, that's not a big deal. You're more important than what I had planned."

"What did you have planned?"

Jillian shook her head. "I'm not telling you."

"Please? Distract me?"

Jillian appraised her, steady and unblinking, for a few seconds, then sighed. "I can't say no to you. Okay. But when we do get a chance to do this, you have to act surprised, okay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to…well, not die, because then you guys would have to bust my ghost."

Jillian smiled at that. "Okay, well…we were gonna steal the Ecto and drive—"

"I'd be driving, I hope," Erin interrupted. Ever since she found out about the vision loss (and worse, Jillian's lack of a license), she refused to be in the car if Jillian was driving.

"Uh…sure, yeah." Jillian tried to hide a smile. "Anyway, like I was saying, we were gonna steal the Ecto after work and drive out of the city."

"Why?"

Jillian's smile turned slightly sad, just enough that anyone else wouldn't have noticed. But it was Erin, and she always noticed those things. "To escape the light pollution."

It took Erin a second to piece that information together. "To see the stars?"

Jillian shrugged. "I always felt bad that I couldn't show you the real ones. The projector I built was—"

"The most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me."

"I was going to say a poor stand-in. I mean, you grew up in the suburbs. You know what the real-deal is like. I thought that if we couldn't go properly stargazing for our first date, then we sure as hell were going to go for our first anniversary."

Erin swallowed the lump in her throat. "Jillian…" She didn't know what to say to that. Normally she'd fill the silence with a kiss, but her face-region was a little tender at the moment.

"We'll still do it," Jillian said, "just not today. Not while you're in pain."

"I'm s—"

"I swear, if you apologize one more time… _I'm_ the one who's sorry. I'm sorry for putting you in danger." Jillian pressed a quick kiss to Erin's forehead.

"You planned this amazing romantic evening and I had to go and break my nose. I should've been looking where I was going."

"For the last time, it's my fault. But this just means now we can have a quiet day together. Maybe we can even play hooky from work."

Erin laughed. "That sounds great."

Jillian snuggled her head in the crook of Erin's neck.

In the emergency room, Erin got even more of a sense of déjà vu. This was bringing back a lot of memories. She settled into a chair while Jillian filled out the paperwork (she warmly noted the difference a year could make in their familiarity with each other—Jillian didn't need any help filling out the form).

After that, it was just a waiting game. The baggie of ice quickly melted but Erin's nose continued to hurt. Jillian seemed to get antsier with each minute that passed until she was full-on squirming in her chair.

"Do you have to pee or something?" Erin teased.

"No, I'm just…I just…" Jillian sighed loudly and sunk down all the way in her seat. "I love you, okay?"

"Okay? I love you too."

"Good. I'm glad, because…agh." She slid down even further until she was barely on the chair anymore.

"What are you doing? You're going to fall."

"S'okay, we're in a hospital."

"Jillian."

"Shhh, I'm…"

"You're what?"

"Thiiinking."

"About what?"

"You."

Erin blinked. "Oh." Her girlfriend was nothing if not honest.

There was a long pause, and then Jillian said, "Oh, screw it, I'm basically there anyway."

Erin was about to ask what the heck _that_ meant when Jillian slipped the rest of the way off her chair and into some graceful tuck-and-roll swivel that ended with her in front of Erin on one knee.

She looked thoughtful for a moment, then reached for her jacket pocket. "This isn't how I planned it, but…"

Then Erin realized what was happening, and alarm bells started blaring in her brain, because _what the hell?_

She caught a glimpse of the small box, but before Jillian could open it or say another word Erin had ripped it from her hands. "No!"

Jillian, always cool even when surprised, barely flinched. She just raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No!" Erin looked down at the smooth metal box that was clearly Jillian's handiwork, then back up. "Are you _serious?_ In a _hospital?_ While I have a broken _nose?_ "

"Well, I—"

"No, no, no, no, no. Abby and Patty _said_ there was no way you were doing this. They _said_ it, Jillian." Erin was well aware that she was causing a scene. She could feel the eyes of half the waiting room on them.

"Good," Jillian said, mirth in her voice. "They held up their end of the bargain."

" _What?!"_

"Paid 'em each fifty bucks to convince you that I wasn't gonna do it today."

" _No._ I don't believe that. Why would they tell me to do it today, then? Huh?" Her voice was rapidly getting hysterical.

Jillian's expression only became more amused. "They told you to prop—"

"No!"

"No?"

"No! Don't say that word."

"Alright…they told you to…do a thing involving a ring? Classic. Bet they wanted to raise some hell. Did you listen to them?"

"Of course not, because they freaking convinced me you weren't, so why should _I?_ I should've listened to them. Why didn't I listen to them? _No._ "

"Not going to lie, hearing you say that word so many times in this context is _kinda_ bumming me out, Erin."

"But you haven't asked."

"You're right; I haven't. Someone stole the ring. Think you could give it back so I can do this thing? My knee's starting to hurt."

Jillian did a grabby-hands motion but Erin held the box further from her.

"No."

Jillian clutched at her heart. "Every time you say that it's like a tiny dagger being spiked into my chest. Someone page a doctor. I need a crash cart on standby!"

Erin went to pinch the bridge of her nose but was reminded that it was broken. She had almost forgotten about it. By that point, nearly every person in the waiting room was watching them. It was Erin's worst nightmare.

"If I give it back, what are you going to do?" Erin said carefully.

Jillian looked around. "I thought it was…pretty obvious?"

"Well…well…I won't let you."

"You going to steal that forever? That won't deter me, you know. I can do it without holding it." Jillian smirked. "Erin Gilbert, w—"

"NO! I won't let you do this! Because…because…I'm going to do it first!" Erin quickly snapped the box open, some part of her brain taking in the ring and how beautiful it was, then shoved it in Jillian's direction. "Marry me? Ha! I beat you! Take that!"

Jillian, for once, looked stunned. "What? Erin…that's _your_ ring."

"No."

"Yes. It is. You can't propose to me with a ring _I_ bought for _you_."

"I just did." Then Erin's brain caught up with what she had just done, and she looked down at the box in horror. Did she just panic-propose to Jillian? "Oh my God. I just…did." Wide-eyed, she looked back up at Jillian, who had an equal expression on her face.

The rest of the waiting room, all the injured and sick people, all the nurses, everyone but Jillian disappeared.

They didn't matter anyway.

Only one person mattered, and it was the one kneeling in front of her. The one who still looked morning-messy with her hair scraggly and loose. The one wearing a grey and black t-shirt printed with an illustration of Bigfoot riding the Loch Ness Monster, tucked into a pair of high-waisted burnt orange pants (in the sense of the colour being burnt orange, but also in the sense that they were riddled with burn marks). The one whose eyes held all the answers to any question Erin might ever need to ask. The one who Erin would go anywhere with, do anything with.

The _one_.

She'd pretty much known that since their first night under the stars, though. She knew nobody else would ever come close.

She exhaled, and all the panic left with her breath.

"Jillian Holtzmann, will you—"

"Marry me?"

"Hey!"

"Couldn't let you have all the fun." A slow smile spread across Jillian's face. "Answers on three?"

Erin nodded. "One…"

"Two…"

"Three…"

" _Yes_ ," they whispered simultaneously. Well, Erin whispered. Jillian shouted.

The ring box clattered to the ground as Erin pulled Jillian up and in for a long kiss, ignoring how much her nose hurt as it was bumped. She was faintly conscious of applause and a bit of good-natured laughter throughout the waiting room, but it didn't bother her.

"Erin Gilbert?"

Okay, _that_ bothered her.

She broke apart from Jillian to see a bored-looking woman waiting.

Jillian laughed and climbed off her lap. "Go get your nose fixed. I need to find that ring you dropped."

Erin blushed but stood, crossing the room to join the woman. The last thing she did before she left was look back to see Jillian on her hands and knees, rooting around under the chairs. A moment later, she held her hands up in triumph, the box in one and the ring in the other. Then she got up and ran to catch up with them.

The woman frowned. "Excuse me, are you family?"

"Yeah," Jillian said, "I'm her fiancée."

Even though they had said they'd skip work and take the day for themselves, they couldn't resist swinging by the firehouse after Erin had been released to tell the others the news.

"Look who decided to show up!" Abby said when they walked in the door. "We thought you guys would be—what the hell happened to your face?"

"I was born this way; thanks for asking," Jillian said cheerfully.

Erin sighed. "I broke my nose."

She was going to have to go back in a few days after the swelling had gone down so the doctor could realign the bone, but it could've been worse.

Patty joined them and leaned in to examine the bruising. "How? Wait…do _not_ tell me this was a sex accident."

"Totally," Jillian said instantly.

Erin glared. "I fell."

"Damn. Must've come down pretty hard, huh?"

"Maybe. Whatever. It's not important. We didn't come to show you that." Erin puffed out her chest and extended her left hand proudly. She had agreed that the ring was, in fact, hers to wear. They were going to go shopping and find one for Jillian at a later date.

It took a second, but then the two of them erupted into cheers. Even Kevin wandered over to investigate.

"Oh, Erin, did you know you've got something on your nose?"

"Thanks Kev. I didn't notice that."

"No problem. What's everyone cheering about?"

"Erin and Holtz are engaged!" Abby beamed widely.

"In combat?"

Jillian mimed drawing a sword and sank into a battle stance. "Always."

"Well, good luck! I'm going to take off now. I'm a finalist in a surfing competition!"

They all watched him go.

"Where do you suppose he's finding waves in New York at this time of year?" Jillian wondered out loud.

"Best not to question it," Patty said. "So, y'all are engaged! That's crazy! Holtzy, I thought you were waiting until tonight?"

"I was, but then Erin broke her nose and my plans went out the window. I was sitting next to her in the emergency room and thinking…you know, screw this, I don't want to go another minute without letting her know how much I love her."

Erin's heart stuttered.

"And then she nabbed the ring and proposed to me first," Jillian added. "Totally stole my thunder. No biggie."

Patty and Abby turned to Erin for confirmation.

"It's true."

"Girl, when we told you to propose to her we meant go buy a ring," Patty said, shaking her head in laughter.

"I panicked!" Erin threw up her hands. "She was trying to propose at a hospital, for crying out loud, and I wasn't even gravely ill."

"It's Holtzmann," Abby said. "Would you really expect anything else?"

Erin looked fondly at her fiancée. "No, I guess I wouldn't."

Her strangeness and complete disregard for social norms was, after all, one of the reasons Erin had fallen in love with her. That and about a million other things.

Jillian reached out to give Erin's hand a squeeze. "Whaddya say we head home? That swollen schnozz of yours deserves at _least_ a day off work, right guys?"

Abby flicked her hand at them. "Go. Celebrate your engagement and anniversary."

"You da best," Jillian said.

"Don't break your girl any more," Patty warned.

"Don't worry," Jillian said, "I'm never letting anything bad happen to her again."

And Erin knew that she meant it, just like she knew that both of them would go to the ends of the earth to protect the other.

Because if there was one thing she was sure of in this world, it was her love for Jillian and Jillian's love for her. She was sure of it like she was sure that the bone in her nose would heal in time, and that the sun would rise each day, and that she would wake every morning for the rest of her life beside her fiancée, her wife, sleeping backwards in bed and kicking Erin's shoulder.

And that wasn't a problem at all.


End file.
